Dearest Samantha,
by The Writer Triumphant
Summary: Freddie responds and agrees to Sam's terms for their relationship. With some conditions.


Usual disclaimer applies. These characters belong to Dan-the-CREATOR-Man Schneider. Companion to** Dear Freddork,**.

**Dearest Samantha,  
**

* * *

Dearest Samantha,

Deal.

Let me elaborate on that. And by the way, yes. I'm calling you Samantha because you did something I really like. You said that you're mine.

I, Freward Benson, do hereby accept your terms. But I have conditions. And I know I'm going out on a limb here and gambling big, because I think it's clear even at this early stage of our adventure that you hold the reins. But even so. If I can't call you my girlfriend, you shouldn't be able to call me your boyfriend. I agree that between us the phrasing is totally wrong. Call me whatever you want, as long as there is a heavily implied _my_ in front of it. As for the name calling, I'm used to it as much as it can be irritatingly endearing. Though you may just find that I have some awesome pet names of my own for you, darling beautiful flaxen haired angel of Doom.

I'm allowed to interpret any public physical contact from you as affection. After all, isn't it obvious by the way you insist on tackling me into my locker or mussing my hair or pulling down my pants that you can't keep your hands off of me? Well, perhaps that's a stretch, but you can allow me my happy delusions, can't you? Besides, I think half the school/city/internet suspects your true intentions when you feel the need to be aggressive with me. Which is often. And I'm through complaining.

I'll be honest. It's going to be hard to not ascend the Space Needle and cry out that I'm _yours_. I will, however, jump at every opportunity to inform anyone who dares suggest that I get myself a girl. Please claim me as much or as little as you want, in all your creative ways. (And yes, the "SAM'S PROPERTY" Penny Tee will be worn on Monday.)

My mother will insist that she outranks you, our relationship, and every doctor's diagnosis/prescription. I'll be wasting me time if I tell you to think otherwise. I know you will. But at some point - I suspect the day after tomorrow, when she sees the shirt I wear to school - she will have to know about us. If I take you to Schneider's Meat Market, will you please not confront her? Believe me at least this: I'll handle it.

Once in a while I'm going to take you places and buy you food that you never tried before and will most certainly be opposed to trying at first. But if you're willing to give me a chance I think you'll like the Galaxy Wars convention and zucchini bread. Or at least tolerate them. And yes, I promise to not wear a costume to said convention and to pair the bread with ham.

I'm in the AV Club. And the Mathletes. And the Junior Bow and Arrow Club. And the Future Technology Builders of America. So sometimes when you _don't_ have detention and want to drag me to the movies so that I can pay for your ticket or to the Groovy Smoothie, you will have to brave breathing dork air for the time necessary to drag me out of there. I won't put up much of a fight, trust me. However, if any of my clubmates asks why you insist on interrupting a discussion on the importance of the White Balance or the flaws with the newest Pear product or why quadratic equations pwn everything, please be very specific. Please just say that you insist because I'm _yours_. In return, I will find a way into the detention room when possible to sneak you Fat Cake or my homework to copy so that at least you can do something productive.

You were my first kiss. I have a feeling that our relationship will entail a lot of firsts. I know that you'll enjoy torturing me for this, but I'm scared of some of them. I promise that I'll think twice before using you to fulfill any needs because it's still strange to find myself staring at your lips - even when you're insulting me or yelling at me - and knowing that I want to kiss them. (And because I'm scared of what my mother would do if principal Franklin called her to tell her that a "Macho" mag was found in my locker.)

I apologize for the time it took me to recognize that when you would tell me "Carly will never love you" it wasn't just meant to hurt me. I'm going to make up for all the times you had to say it, a little bit each day. By now you've discovered the two pounds of ham in the Shay's fridge and the Cuttlefish concert ticket acting as a bookmark between the pages of _The Return of BoogeyBear_. And in case that's not enough for today, know that I love when you throw me covert glances, when you call be by my full name, when you call me by my surname, when you meet me in the hallway before 3rd period as though you look forward to the brief five minutes before the bell, he rare occasions when you offer me food, when you fall asleep on my shoulder, when you stand next to me physically against whatever Carly is saying.

My final condition is that after reading this letter you respond in the Samantha-est way possible. I can already see you editing it and posting it through my iCarly blog in order to embarrass me or something. Maybe you'll surprise me and keep it safe. But the next time I see you once you've read this, give me that look that tells me you're still the boss, call me a nerd, and even kick me if you like. Call me crazy, but it's undeniably you that was what I wasn't seeing before.

P.S. Concert starts at 8.


End file.
